Mae Mihe Saqoyalat
by HouseofFlies
Summary: Her Thorns Covered In Blood. Some men are born with a purpose; the Gods have a path already weaved out for them. Some men are born with no purpose, they need to find their own way. She weaved hers into the great game, the Song of Ice and Fire.
1. Chapter 1

**So...the final happened. Due to the final season i decided to revisit this story, origonally i was not changing a lot of it, but the deeper i threw myself into it, the more i found myself wanting to delve further into the story.**

**If you read this story the first time around, please start again with me and let me know what you think. Game Of Thrones has been such a big part of my life for the past 10 years. It has been an escape, I wish i could start it all again not knowing each twist. But at least now i can mould each twist into Jennisei's timeline. **

**Please follow, favourite, review. PM me and so on. I'd love to talk to more fans. But please enjoy reading what follows, i certain enjoyed writing it. **

* * *

All men have a purpose.

Deepwood Motte, 267 AC. It is Winter. The mossy outer walls of the Castle are crisp with ice and the hills running down from the longhall are covered in a thick blanket of untouched snow. Inside the Deepwood, a woman lies in a mess of sheets damp with sweat. Strands of dark hair are stuck to her forehead as a nearby handmaid dabs a damp cloth against her sticky skin.

It has been hours, but to her it feels like days. Then, with a final push, it is done.

A scream, broken and sharp like metal deign dragged along stone, fills the air. She is tired and prays for the gods to let her rest but before she can even catch her breath the Maester is handing her a squirming bundle of blankets. Inside, a wrinkled pink babe is now quiet and staring up at her mother. She has a daughter.

The eyes take after her father, large and dark, but she has adopted her mothers dark hair and small pointed nose. In a rush of pure honest happiness which almost has the Lady putting a hand to her mouth in order to hide the overwhelming wave of emotion, the woman laughs and all of her pain is forgotten. This life, with new eyes so full of wonder, is hers.

"Her name will be Jennisei. Jennisei Rosemyre."

* * *

Deepwood Motte, 281 AC.

The woman of Deepwood watched on as a girl rode horse back and managed to keep the black beauty she straddled deadly still. She took aim with another arrow and struck the target with more accuracy than some men twice her age, though she did not smirk or bathe in her success afterwards. There were no sneaking glances behind her to see who exactly was watching, but instead, she nodded to herself and withdrew another arrow from the quiver strapped to the front of the saddle.

"Should be left to Dothraki boys..."

"Her father should beat this out of her..."

All of their whispers had been heard all before, they were not new to the girl. She caught all of the looks the commonly women threw at her; heard each of the tuts the men spat as they walked by and demeaned her skill. She had experienced the men and women alike for so long, that now their opinions simply rolled right off her back. She told herself the women were either disgusted or jealous, and that it did not matter for she was a Lady of these grounds and they could not shame her. Where as for the men, they were scared that their own fighting skills were being shamed by a a mere young girl. That is what she believed.

It was as though she held power over everyone and everything she touched, be it living or inanimate. Her father granted her every wish and doted upon every dream that came to her mind during the dark winter nights, even if they were not traditional. Requests such as teaching her how to handle a sword and how to shoot and arrow from a bow. Her mother scowled at the ideas. "She was a Lady, not a soldiers boy", she had said, one evening when Jennisei was no older than seven. "Fighting should be left to the men, you have no need to learn these things." But it did not deter her daughter from practicing in the yard from dawn until dusk.

Amira Rosemyre still loved her daughter of course, whole heartedly. She spent hours in the library, sitting and telling her stories of the old Gods and new, taming her hair into braids and wiping the dried mud from her cheek as the girl rushed to tell all about her days of adventure. Since she was very young, still just a babe, Amira had known her daughter was different. But it did not occur to her just how different until she started to learn to ride.

The animals were the ones who doted upon her above all else. Her talent and charm showed itself as truly remarkable. Any life form introduced to her, would practically bow it's head and offer their service to her. Her horse, a white stallion named Winter, didn't need to be told to halt or walk on, it knew through a way people could not understand. Maybe it was the eerie calmness of her ways or her gentle touch which promised no harm. But one thing was for sure, and that was that people became uncomfortable around the child. For if she could control an animal with such ease and lack of effort, what could she make the people do if she really put her warrior like determination to use.

"Jennisei." Stephan Rosemyre's calling pulled her from the thick orb of concentration she had built around herself, like a bubble blocking out all of the whispers and minute distractions. Taking a glimpse behind her, Jennisei quickly turned Winter and asked him, with the most gentle of nudges, to walk toward her father.

Stephan was a large man. As broad as he was round, he filled a room. During feasts, his voice was the one folks could hear above the rest and it was his footsteps which boomed throughout the halls of Deepwood Motte on a daily basis. His shoulder length hair, bristly like that of a horses main, was turning from dirty blonde to grey and it aged him greatly while softening his harsh and fierce demeanour. Stephan Rosemyre was in no way an unfair man, he was a kind and supportive father, proven by the fact he allowed Jennisei to carry on as she did. But he was a man of a certain generation, tainted by looming war.

"Yes father?" Jennisei smiled, which melted the anger looming in her fathers eyes from a morning her would much rather forget, and looked behind his bloated frame as the gates were opened and a large swarm of banner men began to march through. "What is the special occasion you have not informed me of?" Her father failed to reply and the joking tone slid back down Jennisei's throat as she gulped.

Lannister's. She recognised the coat of arms scratched into the armour instantly. One of the great Southern Houses, the wealthiest and quite possibly the most powerful next to House Targaryen, rulers of the Seven Kingdoms. So why were they here, in her home?

'I very much doubt they have a dept to repay', Jennisei thought to herself while dropping down from her horse with a hefty thump and rolled her eyes. She had never been a one to respect that stupid line of simple words which they thought kept them out of harms reach. Though of course that was her own opinion.

Joining her fathers side, as Winter was led off by a loyal stable boy, Jennisei soon felt her mothers hands brushing the dried mud from her breeches.

"Honestly Jennisei." She tutted. "This is why you should always dress as a Lady." Jennisei took that to mean this visit was not planned and watched her mother closely as she turned her attention onto her older brother, Henry. Of course, he was already immaculate and needed A,Ira to do nothing more that straighten the collar of the shirt mostly hidden by his tunic.

Before long two men, though one would be more accurately described as a boy, rode side by side and separated from the rest of the pack. The elder, she guessed to be Lord Tywin, Hand of the King, from his thinning grey hair but powerful posture. He looked at the world the same way a vulture scouted out easy prey, cold and dark and too soon did those eyes turn of herself.

Jennisei looked away. The boy who accompanied him was too tall to be the imp, therefore she assumed with confidence that she was in the company of the great young lion, Jaime Lannister himself.

"My Lord." Stephen greeted, bowing his head after Tywin Lannister unmounted his horse.

"Lord Rosemyre, a pleasure to see you again in what is undoubtedly a more pleasant scenario." The low tone of his voice was like the build up of a roar, he was most definitely a lion.

As the men shared a strong handshake, palms clapping together with meaning, Jennisei could not help but feel a small part f admiration for the Warden of the West. She had heard that he could be fair towards those who earned his trust and respect, though he could also be cruel and manipulative. People feared him, and that what Jennisei found appealing.

Since she was a young girl, Jennisei had grown giddy with the idea of people fearing her every step however she was unable to explain why. Her family were nothing of that sort and had not been for thousands of years, back when House Rosemyre were petty kings hiding in their week Castle. So maybe she had been born power hungry? Maybe she had grown to adopt that mindset after refusing to be the timid little rich girl for boys to play with and undress with their eyes. Either way, Tywin Lannister was a man she could learn from.

"Aye, that it is." Her father stepped back then and gestured towards his dutiful family, lined up at his side. "My wife, Amira." As if performing a well rehearsed routine, Jennisei's mother dropped into a low, sweeping curtsy. "My son, and heir, Henry." Tywin eyes surveyed her brother from head to toe, and if the smirk gracing his lips was anything to go by, he approved. But of course he approved, it was Henry, everyone adored Henry. "And may I introduce to you, my youngest, Jennisei."

She attempted to follow her mothers example and bowed her head, dipping down as far as her legs could take her before they threatened to collapse. "My Lord." The voice which left her barely sounded like her own, soft like the petals of a summer blossom. Letting her eyes rise back up, taking her time and memorising each intricate detail of his tunic, Jennisei finally met his kind smile and returned it honestly.

"Lady Rosemyre." Tywin greeted her and lifted the hand she offered to his cold, thin lips. "Your beauty has blossomed since the first time we met." She couldn't recall the time he spoke of and put it down to it taking place when she was child and prayed he was telling the truth for she used to be an awfully plump and pale thing. And he was, for she was surely was a beautiful woman who would rival all the other young maidens in Westeros, and surpass many. "Let me introduce my eldest son and heir, Jaime."

Tywin's eyes moved to focus on his son in a much more judging way than Jennisei expected. It was as if he was a sorcerer, the kind seen partaking in side shows down in the village market on summer afternoons, and controlling Lord Jaime's every mood with his mind. Little did Jennisei know that father had already scolded son for looking at their hosts with such distaste as they rode through the gates and that convincing the young lion to come along on this visit was almost impossible to do. Tywin subtly cleared his throat after a moment of tense awkwardness.

"My Lady." Jaime bowed, planting a kiss on the back of her hand which was held out still from greeting his father. As his head, crowed by beautiful golden stands, drooped, Jennisei regarded Jaime with slightly narrowed eyes. "The honour of meeting you is all mine."

He had been gazing at her, during the initial greetings, as if she had just taken away his last toy and it was not the first impression she had imagined. When she heard whispers of Jaime Lannister they came mainly from the handmaidens as they gossiped through the narrow halls. 'Golden haired and broad, like a true lion'. 'The most handsome boy in the Westeros'. But at the minute, all she saw was a spoilt rich boy who hated the fact he had been forced to leave his luscious castle in the Westerlands and travel North.

She also saw the mask of hate he already had for her home, but for what reason?

Her father was the one to break what pathetic excuse for a moment they were meant to be sharing, distracting all from the embarrassing fact that she had failed to reply to Jaime. "Should we head inside, out of this cold and begin discussing business?"

'Business'. Jennisei's head turned towards her father, brows furrowed and inquisitive. Stephan Rosemyre wasn't a man who involved himself in business, unless that of which involved getting to the bottom of a large case of rich red wine and hunting that evenings supper. So for what business could there be to speak of between her father and the Lannister's? They were not allies. They did of course respect each other as all Noble Houses did, but they did not full heartedly support one other.

Unless... As her trail of thought hit a steep, rocky ditch, she stopped. There she was, an unbetrothed daughter who had ideally come of age on her last name day, and opposite her, the son of a Lannister, who was but a few years her senior and yet to take a wife.

"Yes, I think that would be best." Tywin fell into step behind her father; him taking long and purposeful strides compared to her fathers wobbly, stubby steps. She was about to follow in her place behind Henry when Tywin gave one last instruction to his son. "Jaime. Why don't you take a walk with Lady Jennisei? If your kind, maybe she will offer to show you the grounds do Deepwood."

Jennisei stuttered. The thought she had been successful in silencing before it gained any sense of realism was suddenly thirst to the forefront of her mind. Thankfully she was able to recover this time. "Of course my Lord." She gracefully accepted, to which he smiled and then returned to walking into the main hall of the castle, towards her fathers work chamber.

Before the silence settled over them like a heavy winter blanket, Jennisei looked at the boy and forced a small grimacing smile. "Shall we walk this way, My Lord?" She took one slow step, and then another, hoping he would follow and not leave her walking away like a fool.

Thankfully the well educated gentleman in him agreed and together, they began to walk side by side through the main courtyard and towards the castle walls. "You certainly have an eye for horses my Lady." Jaime avoided her eyes but she hardly minded as long as he was being civil and the attention had been diverted onto Winter, who now stood tall and obedient outside the stable.

"Thank you my Lord. I put a lot of my time into him." She smiled and patted Winter's neck affectionally as she walked by; her fingers combing through the soft, well groomed silver hair as the stallion tried to follow her.

"I was told some of the stories about you and your animals, before setting off from Casterly Rock." Jaime adopted a look of disgust but he had been brought up with more manners than to simply voice his thoughts it seemed. "Tell me, are the rumours of your skill behind a sword true too?" His tone was judgemental to say the very least, Jaime may as well have spat the words out. It was fortunate that she had heard this all before.

"I cannot say I know what rumours you have heard." Jennisei started to reply with a short chuckle. "But I would like to say that I am as good as any man my age." An infamous showed across her lips, it was as familiar to her face as her eyes.

Jaime scoffed, looking over the petite woman by his side. "In your eyes, that may ring true."

"I would gladly show you, should you accept." The egotistical stance Jaime adopted made it very easy for her to enjoy taunting him, and he recognised her satirical jesting; it was the same way his sister spoke to their younger brother on a daily basis.

"I would much rather take your word. But maybe another time Lady Jennisei." The yellow tufts of his hair at the front of his head fell into his eyes as he turned towards her and they both came to a stop near the kennels. "I would hate to embarrass your honour in your own home, and so soon after we have met."

Jennisei bit her tongue and wondered if the young Lion had ever been put in his place. How many people bowed to him and kissed his feet as he walked his muddy boots through the halls they had freshly scrubbed? What allowed him to think he could waltz into her home and talk down to her like some common street rat?

She took a step closer to him, raising her chin to be able to meet his eyes in the best way she could given the few inches she lacked on him, and took a deep, heavy breath. Jaime smiles, amusement reflected in his eyes and took in a breath to speak.

"Jaime." Lord Tywin interrupted them, his eyes watching the pair closely from the opposite end of the courtyard. Their closeness, to a stranger, looked like they were growing closer as they were stood almost toe to toe, gazing into each other's eyes. But Tywin knew his son better than that. He saw the irritation on the girls face and the pace of her breathing, hands balled into fists by her side. The High Lord sighed to himself and raised his chin as the young couple both snapped their heads to him. "Both of you, come here."

They dare not question his need for them or deny him. Together, although Jennisei trailing slightly behind after handing Winter to one of her fathers men, they walked to the main hall.

* * *

"You cannot be serious!" Amira winced at her daughters shrillness. "Why did you not…" Her screams were reduced to a broken, raspy whisper. Across the high table, Jennisei's father met her hard stare with harsher one, a silent warning for her to watch her tone. "You...you can not...simply...Marriage?"

Surprisingly, the young Lannister sat by her side seemed to be less taken aback by the sudden announcement. Which only led her to believe one thing; he had known. Everyone had known apparently, apart from her.

Her mother stood behind her father, resting with false grace in his 'throne', watching with sad eyes. How could she do this to her only daughter? How could she had kept it a secret? Or had she too not know, had she been a subject to be ignored because she was a woman lacking an appropriate opinion.

Meanwhile, her brother sat to Stephan's side with a smirk. They had never got along. With him being the first born, the heir and the more respectable child of the Rosemyre's, he did not have time for her and had not since the day she was born. Even the most minuscule remanence of respect normally present between siblings was not there. They were nothing more than beings living within the same stone walls. Phillip was probably over the moon to here of her leaving.

"The arrangements have been made. The two of you are to marry within the month." Tywin's bold voice boomed through the great hall.

"But…" Jennisei fought will her thoughts to try and find any words which would help her. But there were none. Everyone who could help her was already against her. "You have barely given me time to get used to the idea." Jennisei stuttered and started to play with her fingers. She always knew that marriage would not be something she chose to enter, that it would be arranged for her just like every other element of her life. She had been told that at the same time she been taught by her mother that it was the duty of a noble girl. She had still dreamed of marrying for love when she was younger and beating her parents to it, but as the years passed that dream turned to ash and she learned to accept her fate. However, she had hoped that her impending marriage would not lead to her marrying a man that could not even be decent to her upon their first meeting.

"Very few women are given that chance, My Lady," Lord Tywin's voice was softer now as he stood from his chair and walked to stand in front Jennisei, off to the side so she could still just catch sight of her father behind him. Was that sadness in his eyes now the higher lord could not see him? Was it regret? Or was he just embarrassed by her rejection of the idea? Resting a firm hand on her shoulder, Tywin did not attempt to smile."I have come to an agreement with your father, you will marry at Casterly Rock before the new moon."

This time, with this stranger touching her, she could only nod along to his words, glancing for the shortest moment, at Jaime. He too looked unhappy, or perhaps that was an understatement. For that she pitied him and learned to understand him.

Would she of acted any more decent than he had should she have been in his place? Would she have smiled and exchanged pleasantries with a man she had been forced to travel to meet, knowing they were who you were to marry? Most likely not. He had been acting out of spite; what an odd first similarity to establish with your betrothed.

"When do I leave?" Jennisei whispered like a small timid girl and removed her eyes from Jaime, dropping them to the floor.

"Dawn."


	2. Chapter 2

"I cannot marry her." Jaime sulked, sitting as close to the fire as he could without getting burned. His fathers temporary chambers at Deepwood Motter were larger than his own, just, but up North larger only meant colder. He had yet to display an ounce of anger or raise his voice, in fact since their supper had finished he had done nothing but sigh.

"She is a comely young woman, not only that but she is a good woman." Tywin replied, but to Jaime's ears the words were becoming tiresome. "She will be a good match for you."

"I must take your word for it." Jaime's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he took a drink of sharp dark Northern wine from his cup. The taste was foul, lacking depth or richness, he was not drinking it for its flavour.

"Do not be so cruel, I raised you better than that."

"Why her?" Jaime asked suddenly, squinting into the fire. "Hmm, tell me, father? The way she holds herself is not how a Lady should. She is uncomely, not, not even her dress was that of a high born Lady."

"She had been out riding." Tywin groaned, sticking up for the poor girl. He may have had his views on how a woman should be, he had made sure that those views were clearly made practical through the actions of his own daughter. But, Lady Jennisei was her own person and a Northern Lady and he needed an ally in the North. The only Stark girl was too old and most of the other house were either lacking in beauty or age; Lady Rosemyre was but a few years younger than Jaime and undeniably beautiful. But never the less, in this age having a little something different was not always a bad thing in Tywin's opinion. "And that is why I thought she would make a good match for you. The girl enjoys an adventure I hear, you can bond through that. Perhaps you can teach her more on how to handle a sword."

Jaime stood from the wooden stool and looked at his father for a long, stretched out moment. He looked amused, but why? Why would his own father be amused by his heirs unappetising fortune, brought on by no other but him?

"I do not want my wife to handle a sword, or any weapon for that matter." The young Lord snapped. "I cannot marry Lady Jennisei." Pausing, his voice softened. "Father I cannot marry her, nor can I marry any woman."

Tywin rolled his eyes. He would not amuse this topic again, not here and not at this time. His son was a stubborn one, that was quite certain, but it was a trait which was starting to become quite a thorn in his side.

"I'm joining the Kingsguard." Jaime would have had better luck trying to get blood from a stone, than he would have trying to decipher his fathers glare.

"The Kingsguard?" A scoff. That is all his father could do, scoff. "Your place...is not sitting amongst Dragons in the Kingsguard. And your place is certainly not in Kings Landing." His green eyes, sparkling with gold more pure than what he was used to holding in his hands, were harsh. "As Hand of the King I can oversea affairs there. Your place is in Casterly Rock. Serving as my heir and, one day, their Lord."

"And what if that is not what I want?" Jaime took a stand for himself.

"From that scene down there, do you think Lady Jennisei is walking into something she wants?" Twin looked at his son from under his brows. Jaime knew that look, his fathers matter of fact look. "She is being forced to leave her home, all she knows, all she even had known, to marry a man she does not know. It does not matter what you want. The fact is, this is what you were born into and you will serve your family, just like she is going to serve hers."

"I can serve my family from Kings Landing."

"You will do no such thing!" The young lion was interrupted by the commanding voice, bouncing off the stone walls of Deepwood. "You will do as I tell you and you will wed the Rosemyre girl a week on from when we arrive back at Casterly Rock."

"Father-" Giving one last final attempt, he narrowed his jaw but nothing further came from his protest. He was suffering from the same helpless frustration Jennisei had in front of them all, and like her he eventually submitted.

"There will be no more said on the matter. It is time for you to rest, we leave at dawn." Jaime was dismissed and knew not to test his fathers patience anymore. With one last heaving sigh, he stood and prepared to take his leave. "Jaime. For the sake of your family and our reputation, I hope to see you being pleasant to Lady Jennisei from this day forward. Otherwise I will begin to think myself that she is too good for you." His fathers words hit the back of his head and after a second, Jaime lowered his head in disappointment and exited.

* * *

As scheduled, the horses had set off at dawn. Jennisei had served her goodbye to her parents, assuring her mother she would be the best example of a northern Lady for the southerners, promising her father to never forget where she came from, and ignoring her brothers hateful glare for long enough to be able to hug him goodbye. Not one of those actions were genuine, but it was the thing to do, the expected thing to do.

She had mounted Winter, only trusting him to safely see her to her new home, and never looked back, not even when they were about to enter the thickness of the Wolfswood and the castle was to disappear. She was not going to be weak around these strangers, that was what she had promised herself.

But now, after they had only been riding for an hour and the sun was only just starting to climb above the horizon, Jennisei was starting to wonder what exactly she had voluntarily entered. She was to marry a Lannister, a Lion, and soon if Lord Tywin's words were anything to go by. She was to take his name, wear his colours, speak her words and practise his ways…mother his cubs. That was not something she pulled stomach thinking about just yet in very much detail, although it was somewhat amusing; for how could he father her children if he could not so much as speak to her. Even now he rode ten strides a head of her and behind his Lord father, holding his head high as if her were the Lord himself.

Tywin suddenly turned, his eyes focusing on her quicker than than the time it took for her to remove her glare from Jaime and she blushed. Though it seemed to go unnoticed, or ignored, and Tywin's attention was also turned onto his son. They appeared to share a look, an unspoken message and, coincidentally, a few seconds after this contact between father and son, Lord Jamie cleared his throat and slowed the pace of his stallion.

"So My Lady, are you looking forward to starting a life in the south?" He was struggling to make the the politeness come willingly into his tone. It was unsettling, given all of their correspondence the previous day but unlike most of their time together then, he knew his fathers ears were listening nearby. That did not mean she was not unsettled by it.

Jennisei took a second to study Jaime; he was undoubtedly handsome. He had very pronounced features, pretty ones, and a strong jaw much like his father. Though he had not deserved such recognition, she would admit that he looked very lordly, standing tall and proud at all times with his eyes resting only on those he deemed worthy of such a gesture. His body, from what she could tell was lean, a beacon of Lannister honour and strength. They could have introduced this man as a King and she would have believed them.

"I suppose." Jennisei shrugged, all the dreams she had of the South appearing in her mind all at once. Childhood lessons had left her imagination with the image of outstretched grassy fields, not damp and dark like those covering the North but bright and lush, reeking of floral scents. The breeze would carry the warmth and the waters surrounding the land would be worm. It was supposed to be heavenly, it was supposed to be a different world. "I have never been to the south, the furthest I've been is Winterfell." She smiled as she recalled the memories though they had faded greatly. Now, all she could remember was how the towers made her feel like a mouse, the way they stood high, almost brushing the sky.

"Excuse me if I offend, but I would not class Winterfell as the South." Jaime smirked, however after moment it stretched into that of a genuine smile upon hearing Lady Jennisei's giggle. He was trying to be demeaning but she could not help but agree with him with a small nod of her head.

"No, I do believe you are with the majority in thinking that My Lord." Her smile was pretty, the way it reached her eyes and made them sparkle in the new days light. Jaime could agree with his father that she was not the worst looking female he had laid eyes on, but she was still no comparison to his sister who was truly the most beautiful woman in Westeros, if not the entire World. She was pale and plump and held herself like a man which failed to flatter her, as stated, broader figure. "I would hope the real south is much warmer. I do not mean to say I do not enjoy the fresh air of my home, but seeing more sun than snow would be a welcome change."

He had been too busy studying her and rushed to form a response. "I can imagine."

Given everything he had to say on the girl, he looks did attract him far more today than they had before. She had showed herself in the Deepwood Motte courtyard wearing a deep, wine coloured dress which had small black detailing; the colour of her house but simple and overall beautiful. Her black hair was wore down, with two small plaits at either side if her face pinned back to create a crown and perfectly framing her emerald eyes. A Lady, would be how the common folk would recognise her from her appearance, and it got him thinking; could she handle a sword? He had not had the chance to see her from his undoubtedly short stay in the North, his father had been very straight on his need to return South without delay. But what was she capable of?

"Your training? Archery etcetera…do you think you will be able to continue practising such things where we are going?" She looked to him, eyes full of questioning. Jennisei wondered, perhaps, if he was testing her, if she was supposed to ask for his permission to continue? However he looked this time as if he was not trying to tease her.

"I do not see a reason why it should stop me. Of course…organising a wedding will take up much of my time at first." The dread was evident in her voice. "But afterwards, yes. I would hope to keep practising." But after the wedding, would come children. How would she be able to swing a sword when with child? All at once, Jennisei felt the true consequences of her fate falling into place before they had even happened, it was as if the control reigns she had on her life were taken away, in one breath. "But tell me, what is my new practice ground, the great Casterly Rock like?"

Jennisei needed to distract herself before the invisible armour melted and threatened to show her emotion so soon into her journey. She could not let them think she was weak. She was not weak. So she would sit tall and act interest, act devoted, as practised.

"It's undoubtably one of the most magnificent castles in Westeros." Jaime answered with ease and Jennisei was thankful that his attention no longer lingered on her but on the road. "I'm sure you should have no problem settling in."

"Really? Do you think?" Pouted lips formed the words easily, but her mind failed to form the image of her 'settling'. "I cannot see it myself."

"There is no reason for you not too." Jaime attempted to reassure her, looking forward briefly to see his father no longer sporting a frown. "Once we are married, you will be a Lady of Casterly Rock. It will be as much your home as it is mine."

"Lady of Casterly Rock." No matter how many times she repeated the phrase, it never got sweeter; always leaving a sour after taste in her mouth. "Funny, to think yesterday I woke knowing nothing of this fortune." Fortune, it was a funny choice of word. Not of this was a fortune to her, horror would have been a more suitable choice.

"Are you scared?" Jaime asked, lightly amused.

"Scared? No." Jennisei rocked with the steady sway of her horse, eyes burning into the misty horizon. "Nervous perhaps." There was a chuckle, but it was forced. In fact had it not been so disgustingly feminine she would not have thought it came from herself. "I do not know…how to be a wife."

Jaime felt sorry for the girl then. His sister had not yet been arranged to marry and she was a year or so older than Jennisei. But had she had already been married, he could not imagine watching her go and letting her travel all alone into the depth of the North to marry a Lord which did not deserve her. The fact that the day would soon come turned his stomach, turned it so badly he could not cope with it.

This young girl, her whole life had changed overnight. She had gone from being a northerner to a southerner, from a girl to a woman, from a maiden to a wife; all in one night. But the girl was here, holding her head high with a smile. Perhaps she was more like the them then he first gave her credit for.

"You will soon settle into your new home." Along with the smile Jaime offered her, he reached across to her and gently laid his hand over her own, reassuring her with a gentle squeeze.

She did not buy it. She never would buy it. Amongst all of the airs and graces, smiles and small talk, she did not trust him. Something there, a distant glimmer in the very corner of his eyes, it haunted her.

"I hope so my Lord." Jennisei smiled politely in return and bowed her head as he took his hand back.


	3. Chapter 3

The South was not suiting her. From the way she had been forced to wear satin and silks since she arrived to the way unknown handmaidens pulled and contorted her hair into the way with was the southern fashion. From the moment she stepped foot into the high grounds of Casterly Rock, Jennisei found herself feeling less like herself and further from the girl she as already pretending to be in Deepwood Motte. Here, she had not been allowed one opportunity to ride, she had not laid eyes on a sword, never mind her hand, and her patience was forever being tested. Whether it be by Jaime himself or simple the differences and strange ways of the castle, it all infuriated her.

In fact there was only one thing which did not make her want to run away and disappear, Jaime's younger brother, the Imp. Tyrion Lannister was a peculiar one. He was still very young, younger than herself, but he had already adopted a trait which allowed him to be delightfully intriguing. She had been wandering the halls when they had first met, after straying from her path and ending up in the west wing she had found the library where he had been reading.

'My northern sister' he had addressed her as before introducing himself and inviting her to take a seat at the table he read at. He had then gone on to ask how she was finding his home as her own, how she was settling and if the food and weather was to her liking. He had asked if she required anything, if he could do anything to make her any more comfortable than she had already said she was, a lie of course. In one conversation, their first conversation, Tyrion had already asked her more questions and transferred more words than Jaime had ever done.

As she walked through the hall now, she could only smile at the memory, but it quickly turned into a sour frown as her thoughts turned into how the youngest Lannister seemed to be treat. Jaime, for one example, never spoke of him and appears to be embarrassed that she had even laid eyes on the Imp. Then there was Tywin, if he was in the same room as his son his eyes never ventured into the space Tyrion occupied. But worse of all, there was his older sister, Cersie Lannister.

Cersie too was a strange creature, a one who gave peculiar a whole new meaning in a very negative way. At supper, she sat but never smiled. She barely spoke. Their eyes had yet to meet as she most commonly took the seat on the other side of Jaime. Upon their first meeting, Cersie's welcoming smile had been more of a grimace and then she had turned her back to Jennisei and returned to her lessons.

To Jennisei's delight, she had been able to avoid the girl since, even during breakfast. That was until this morning when Jaime had told her she would be taking tea with his sister in the gardens. Alone.

This is where she walked to now, squinting as she stepped out of the castle and into the harsh sun. She did not want to attend, mainly because she knew there would be a reason to it and she did not wish to find out what that reason was. But, like everything recently, Jennisei did not had a choice in the matter and she could hardly run from it, especially now she approached the golden haired Lioness under a shaded terrace.

"My Lady." A curtsy, a smile, a gentle look; nothing to harm or offend, that's how Jennisei greeted the woman she was to call a sister in just a few days time.

"Jennisei, I am so glad you were able to join me." Her smile was false. Often, Jennisei found herself wondering if the woman actually knew how to show positive emotion, or if she even felt such things. "Please, sit. I hope you like Lemon cakes."

"Thank you, My Lady, you are too kind."

"You are to be married to my brother, we are to be sisters. I hope we can act like such."

"I do too." It struck Jennisei that although they were to be 'sisters', Cersie had yet to state if she could be addressed by anything other than 'My Lady'. "Is it for that why you wished to meet, My Lady?"

"I would like to know the girl who is to marry into my family, yes." Cersie's jaw was clenched and behind her eyes was the same harshness she always saw in Jaime's. It could not be ignored, no matter how hard she tried, it was always there as if testing her. "I want to know my brother will be looked after."

"I can promise you, I will do my best to care for him from the moment we are married." Her voice, though she tried to make it sound strong and true, held a quiver of doubt. Jennisei could not say for sure if she would make a good wife, or if she would satisfy this woman's expectations of a sister wife, but she could say with meaning that she would try.

It was to be her duty, to make her House proud, her mother proud and her father proud and to be played as a pawn for power once her brother was Lord. Her Lannister ties would prove useful should there ever be a war like the one which was looming over their heads.

"Have you bled?" The golden lioness was watching Jennisei as if she had just asked if she would like lemon or poppy seed cake, mouth set in a straight line, curling ever so slightly upwards in the corner.

"Yes." She answered after a pregnant pause. Her first had been not long before her last name day; from the way her mother reacted she felt as though she had bloomed like the first flower in High Garden though the way her insides twisted made her want to sink into the mud of the marsh lands surround her old home. "Yes, My Lady, may I ask why…"

"You will soon be mother to his cubs, they must be strong. One day they will rule the Castle behind us and carry on the Lannister name." Cersie interrupted, her smile erupting suddenly. "They must be of golden hair and fierce. Do you think you can give that to him, my sweet?" Reaching across, the girl lay her hand on Jennisei's knee, stroking the fabric of her dress with a strong, vice like grip.

"I can try-"

"Trying is not simply good enough." This time, it was a bite. A snap which shut Jennisei up and made her pull back. Seeing her do so, Cersie rethought her advances and took a breath. "I understand, up north things may be done differently. All little Lords need to do is learn to drink and bed whores but that is not how things are done here." Although harsh, the offences towards her heritage were so beautifully spoken, so lyrical, that Jennisei found herself nodding along in agreement. "Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Something about Cersie Lannister made her squirm. There was something lacking behind the girl's eyes, something every living man and woman should have, a soul. She had been sent, condemned, to live amounts lions. A rose amongst wild animals was sure to be trampled, there was no questioning that. Suddenly, the realisation of needing to fight took over her and it was almost too much.

She was strong but she had not been told the ways of the south, how to act or how to talk and hold yourself so to not be knocked down. She was head strong and confident, rare for a girl of her age from her area of the world but these people were stronger and more confident. She would have to grow teeth and claws in order to survive here.

Cersie smiled again, pulling the northerners attention back to her as her eyes softened. "You are so pale. But not to worry, the sun will warm you in no time and you will look like a true southerner." Then there would be no trace of where she came from, Jennisei thought, unable to hide her disapproving stare. "It will be as if you are one of us."

"I do not believe I could ever be one of you, My Lady." Jennisei pursed her lips before a broken laugh left her, just a single huff of amusement, but even that was too much of a defiance for Cersei. Never mind the sudden appearance of a smirk which followed as the northern girl ran her tongue over her front teeth, fighting back her grin. "I am, just not worthy of that."

She would not be afraid of this girl, a few years more lived was nothing of a threat. It was not as if she had any power, not yet. The only power she really had was her brother, Jennisei's husband to be. Just how long would that power last? The golden hair on her pretty little head would mean nothing, in fact it already meant nothing to Jennisei, it never had meant anything. This woman, this girl, was a silly little want to be princess living in a high tower with no dreams other than to get what she wanted. It was not a threat, it was not frightening, but it was sickening.

"If you will excuse me, My Lady. I have a wedding to plan."

As Cersie was met with Jennisei's back, she watched her retreat with a snarl. Girls never lasted long in these grounds. Some had accidents meaning they did not return and others feared they would be involved in a much serious accident should they return. There were always consequences for those distractions, those girls which skipped around the Lannister gardens, batting their eyelashes and flashing the Heir a rosy smile; and those consequences burned brighter than Cersie Lannister's eyes as they watched the northern girl until they no longer could.

—-

Later that evening, as the sun set over the horizon casting summer shadows over the still waters, Jennisei sat in the library, curled in on herself at one of the long tables pushed into the darkest corner. She had not wanted to sit and watch the waves crash upon the shore hopelessly, dreaming of how her wedding was to be and how some day, time soon it would be her son or daughter sat in that spot, watching the same waves.

Her stomach flipped.

"Mother his cubs." Jennisei repeated the words, wincing. There was an awful tone behind them when they came from Cersie's mouth and Jennisei had been unable to rid herself from the feeling since.

Once, when she was very small, her mother had come to her chamber and started to have the talk with her. She was told that one day she would have children, but they would not carry on her family name. They would be born to carry on their own fathers name; another lord, from another Castle. She would give birth to a boy, they would be the heir, and then a girl who would herself, one day, be married to secure further allies.

There was still the phantom memory of her heart dropping into her stomach, when she realised Deepwood Motte would not be her home forever like it would for her brother. It was the same feeling she had now, knowing back home her family were going about their day as normal. She would not even be missed for this was always how things were meant to be. But she missed them; she missed riding through the Wolfswood and smelling the barley harvest as the wind blew in off the fields. She missed the North and all that came with it.

With eyelids dropping, Jennisei swept her hand across the page in her book and prepared to close it shut, admitting defeat, when her thoughts were interrupted.

"I hear you had a meeting with my sister." Jennisei had been so involved in her thoughts that she had not heard the little Lions footsteps creeping up on her.

When she turned her head, she saw Tyrion stood only a few steps away, just out of reach of the shadows, watching her. He was dressed smart; like he always was, holding his chin high; like he always was.

She was not sure, as she watched his in return, what to reply with and so she stayed quiet. It seemed to throw Tyrion, given how he pouted with eyebrows raised and sucked in a breath.

"That bad?"

"She was every bit as lovely as I expected her to be." Jennisei sighed, turning the page of her book though her eyes had failed to read the last half a dozen pages. Distraction truly was a strange thing, her eyes refused to read but her hands refused to stop turning at an even pace. "The news of her beauty was not exaggerated." Her brow rose upwards, momentarily, like how a feline flicks its whiskers.

Tyrion laughed under his breath and started closing the space between them. "I do not like her either, you don't have to be nice." He pulled out the chair opposite her, scraping it along the floor with a vastly squeak before climbing up into it.

"I like her. Though she can be quite brash." Jennisei kept her focus on the book in her hands, that way her eyes were less likely to give away the truth. Although some deep instinct told her to trust the Imp, she was not sold on him just yet. They had spoke a handful of times, for all she knew he was his sisters best copy.

"Not to worry, she will soon be back in the Capital, once my father returns to King's Landing." That was one positive factor of Jennisei's whole situation. With Cersie playing the part of a Lady in the Capitol, Jaime would be free from her influence.

"Are they close, Jaime and her?"

She could only assume so given Cersie's admirable devotion to her brothers well being was due to them being close. That is all is was, she was being protective over Jaime. He had been hers since they were both birthed within these Castle walls, it was all she had ever known and now a strange Northern girl was threatening to take it all away from her.

From the other side of the table, Tyrion sighed. "Closer than siblings tend to be, though they shared time in my mothers belly. It is not a surprise they are close." It was well known that twins were always closer than mere brothers and sisters. Her mothers family had been blessed with a pair, both boys and blonde and beautiful, they had followed each other everywhere and they would have followed each other to the ends of the Earth should they not have been taken too early.

At the age of 9, the eldest by a couple of hours had contracted the pox. He died one the first night and in the morning his brother joined him. There were no signs of what had caused his death. No case of the pox, no illness at all, he just left with his brother.

Jennisei's brow creased, folding into a frown; she could still remember hearing her mothers cries after the news had reached her from Torrhen's Square, her home. Her nephews stolen from her, sons stolen from her sister.

"What happened to your mother?" Jennisei asked suddenly, looking up from her book and focusing on Tyrion with her own curious stare.

"She died. Giving birth to me."

Immediately her eyes fell back to the silly storybook she had picked out at random. Focusing around princesses and their knights and their white stallions with shining stirrups and evil step-sisters…she wondered if fate had picked it.

"I am sorry…I did not know." He whispered, voice raspy.

Tyrion started to shake his head. "There is nothing for you to be sorry for Lady Jennisei. It is my burden to bare, just one of the reasons my fathers detests me."

Although she already knew he was being btutelly honest about his family relationships, she still felt the need to try and console him. "I am sure he does not detest you." But Tyrion rolled his eyes and then landed them on her, his long unimpressed gaze making her chuckle. "…too much." Jennisei added with a smile. It was refreshing to see how someone so obviously aware of their families hatred, was so…accepting. Tyrion Lannister was honest when it came to being himself anyway, she was not so sure how far his honesty stretched when it came to his other affairs.

"Give it time." Tyrion smiled, but did not laugh with her. "By your third month here, you will probably be joining in."

"Never!" Jennisei exclaimed, the book dropping to the table top as she held her palm tight to her chest in mock offence. "I am appalled that you could think that, even after such brief time together." This time Tyrion did laugh, though it was more of a dissatisfied huff. "What is it?" She asked, smile falling.

An eeriness took over the entire room, the dark shadows creeping further over them and banishing the light flooding through the tall stained glass windows. There was a silence which neither of them were comfortable with, but a Tyrion was the one to break it, after his lips had trembled in thought for a moment or so.

"I do hope you are right for my brother." Jennisei listened, watching his hands closely as they played with the frayed edges of his red tunic. "He can be quite hard headed, and I add in the nicest brotherly way, an idiot." Tyrion's head lulled around as if it were not screwed onto his body quite right, but it was just him thinking; she had learnt this to be a gesture of his. When he had come to a conclusion, or decided what to say, he would always roll to a stop, still. "I hope he realises you are kind, and treat you so back."

A small smile; followed by a sigh; followed by a sad, calming, sullen look. "I am sure, over time, he will. He will be the perfect gentleman. One day I may even be so lucky as to be happy, and to make him happy in return."

Maybe. Just maybe. A marriage may just turn into friendship and that into love, into respect and happiness. She never wanted to be married as part of the game, she had never really thought she had wanted to marry at all. But if she was to, she wanted it to be for love. She wanted to be happy, to know she could grow old and be happy. She wanted that.

"I do not believe he could not come to love you, My Lady. I look forward to the wedding, I truly do."

Jennisei's eyes narrowed, giving her the look of a cunning courtier. She tried to hide her smirk, truly, but it started to seep through the cracks in her lips. "I expected to find a monster when I came here. An awful slimy, hunchbacked troll, locked up in a dungeon somewhere. You cannot imagine my disappointment, when I got here and found you. A fully walking and talking, encyclopaedia. Just smaller."

"I expected a girl who looked too much like a boy to be brought to Casterly Rock. I expected my brother to be married to an ugly, boisterous, broad backed beast." "Imagine my disappointment…" Tyrion groaned, dragging out the words as if it was causing him true pain. "When instead my brother; my older, taller, handsome brother, heir of Casterly Rock and admired by all…brought you back."

It was surprising yet strangely honourable how the rumours of her masculinity had reached so far south. It was not as if House Rosemyre was a large house, then again any rumours not related to the Targaryan rumours were a welcomed distraction for all.

"Apologies, my Lord. I shall try to make myself more manly for your sake." Her cheek swelled as she grinned but held her lips pursed together like a naughty child. "Though I might wait until after the wedding."

"Wise decision, my Lady." Tyrion smiled though he still looked distracted. "Your wedding, what a grand affair it will be."


	4. Chapter 4

The wedding. Her wedding.

Could it be called such if there had been no ceremony? No feast? No bedding?

Had Tyrion known? Is that why he had seemed so distant; why he had looked so filled with thought and possessed such doubtful looks?

Jennisei had stood there, not by will but by duty, humiliated. Surrounded by silence in the Grand Hall, her family had not been present to provide comfort, they had not been invited.

The scent from the fresh beautiful southern flowers was enough to suffocate her, the ivory petal hanging down from the fine gold vases ingrained with lions. She was hugged by ivory silk with a long train dragging out behind her. The design was meant to make the nobles gasp at it's beauty; to convince them to adore the woman who wore it and stun the man that would greet her at the alter.

There had been no man at the alter. All of the seats were filled, arranged perfectly in lines on either side of her but all sitting Lannister guests. All of their eyes were set on her, her alone, at an empty alter in front of an elderly fumbling Septon.

All of those seats were empty now of course. The noble families had left, returned home with heavy distaste for having had their time wasted. The food, prepared by the kitchen staff over the past several days, had been scrapped and fed to the dogs, the horses, the servants. The Lemon cakes and honey buns sent down to the city of Lannisport as an offering to the common people, an apology for the empty promise of a celebration.

The disappointment she suffered was what sent Jennisei into shock. The way her heart twisted as if Jaime had opened up her ribcage and took a hold of it himself, wrapping his strong hand around the pulsing organ until it stopped.

She had not called the Castle her home long, only a few short days, but they had been spent mostly in Jaime's company. He had shown her the grounds, taken her down to the sea front and even challenged her to a clashing of swords while no one was watching. Jennisei had thought everything was going well, possibly too well. After meeting his sister, she had been worried about what the Lady Lannister's influence would cause, but then as the days went on and the couple grew closer those fears hard sharp dissolved.

Jennisei thought they were enjoying each other's company, she thought they were able to laugh and tell stories of their past with ease. She felt herself falling for the young Lion already, his charm even hard for her to hide from.

But now she knew that she had thought wrong.

It was not even just herself who had been kept waiting; his father had been stood to the side of her, tapping his foot and glancing at the door more frequently with each second which passed. Tywin Lannister had been the one to put a stop to the ceremony and call it a failure, his low protruding voice telling half of Westeros to go home. Once the sept was empty, he had turned to her and told her to go to her chamber, to change and to wait for him. He would join her shortly.

Jennisei was still waiting when the sun had long since set. She had sat, grateful for the dull candle light disguising the tear stains on her cheeks even though the room was bare, and tried not to crease the silk she stayed wearing. The wedding could happen, he could come back. They could still be wed. But truly, she knew it was over. She knew she had failed. But everything had felt calmer once the day was gone, it had been a little easier for Jennisei to convince herself it had all been a bad dream.

However the nightmare became worse, quite quickly.

The Lord of Casterly Rock came finally, once the entire Kingdom was sleeping. He informed her that his son had not shown himself, he was in fact still missing. It had been assumed that Jaime Lannister had fled to Kings Landing, fleeing to sign himself to Aeyrs's Kingsguard. She never found out the reason for that insinuation but that did not matter, the simple fact was Jaime would rather sign up for a life of loneliness, than marry her.

The shame on Tywin's face had been evident, not to mention his anger. Jennisei had feared him terribly but, against her predictions, he had offered her his greatest apologies on behalf of his son and House Lannister.

But he had arranged for her to travel home that very same night. She would not need to go alone, no, Tywin Lannister's finest men would of course accompany her to a Deepwood Motte and keep her safe.

The disappointment had swept over her upon hearing that news, but overall she had been heartbroken. Not even the old Lion's word, upon him leaving her chambers had lightened her mood. "The Lannister's owe you a dept, My Lady." A week ago she would have scoffed, laughed, bellowed even; but now, nothing. Not even a stirring of humour.

At the alter, something in her had broken deep within her, like fragments of glass, piercing and burrowing deeper each time she remembered. The pain, although not emotional, sparked a flame which boiled into hatred quick; to quick for her to control. There was a sensation, not a voice for she had not been pushed so far as to delve into madness, but a feeling, a need. Jennisei wanted to hurt someone, something. Simply smashing one of the family's heirlooms would not do, she wanted to hurt them, she wanted to hurt him. Jaime Lannister.

But she had not be allowed that opportunity. Instead she had packed her bag with help from no one and then mounted her horse and never looked back, promising to not shed another tear.

Though the day replayed itself in her mind through the long days and sleepless nights she travelled. Even as she rode through the gates of her home, a place which already felt so foreign to her, she saw Jaime riding into the courtyard and a version of herself was stood by her mothers side; a girl who was a stranger to herself now.

"My daughter, it is so good to have you home." Stephan was the first to greet leading with a wide smile, his short strides quick causing him to waddle. He helped her down from Winter, a hand softly supporting her back, and then at the first opportunity he got, her father pulled her into a bone crushing embrace.

"Father." Jennisei whispered, her weak voice muffled by his thick furs, and wrapped her arms tight around his neck. This was home. Like the waves which crashed upon the rocks at Casterly Rock, comfort swept over her like a thick wooden blanket.

"Jennisei." A voice, more frail than her own, spoke as she pulled back. Amira was stood a foot or so away, sheepish. "My darling." Her mother was breathless and she need not say any more for Jennisei to understand and step into her mothers arms. "Was your journey home alright?" Amira asked, ears pressed against Jennisei's ear, her warm breath caressing the cold skin of her neck.

"Too long." Still, Jennisei was yet to smile. There had not been much. Abuse for such expression of emotion on her ride, the men were silent and the surrounding bleak. Even now, with her mother now holding her cheek and gently pouting her lips, Jennisei could only continue to frown. "I am tired. May I be excused?"

"Would you not like to eat?" Stephan asked. "You must be hungry, sweet child." There was no reply and Lord Rosemyre shifted on the spot before awkwardly coughing to try and clear the air. "Of course, you are tired. Go and rest."

There was no hesitation and within just a few moments, with the heavy wool of her northern dress sweeping out behind her, Jennisei got lost in the dark hallways of her home. Compared to the vast open halls of Casterly Rock, the sweating walls were claustrophobic. It was more of a tomb than a Castle and the passages wound around each other like a maze but she would never get lost. For as long as she lived her own mental map of the castle would never be forgotten.

However, as she opened the door to her room and admired the space she had grown up in, it felt as tough she was visiting after years of absence. New furs were spread across her bed and the chests of dresses were now empty. It was a shell, sparse and cold and lacking all identity.

It fit her. It fit her perfectly.


	5. Chapter 5

Summer was here.

The four year winter had finally ended with the snow creeping back up North as slowly as it had descended down from the sky. The crisp fresh air had returned to Deepwood Motte, along with a sense of hope.

Hope, it was something every man in Westeros had almost lost sight of. But it came back to them, as gradual as the sun grew warm. Their doubts and fears melted with the ice which stiffened the moss clinging to the walls of the castle, now it was healthy and green and no longer threatened to snap if caressed. Barley had returned to the lands, the scent sweeping over the town which aided in turning all of those who lived in it cheerful again.

The castle had returned to being beautiful. The lands bathed in sunlight as the surrounding lands bloomed with crops.

They were due good luck. They were due peace. For the ends of winter had been harsh on them all, in more ways than one.

Robert's Rebellion. That what they were all calling it. From King's Landing to The Wall, everyone knew of Robert's Rebellion and the details of each event which ensued with it. No one could recall how long it had been playing out, how many battles there had been, how many deaths…

Lord Rosemyre had gathered his men, rode down South to aid Lord Stark and fight at Lord Baratheon's side. King Robert Baratheon that is now, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.

Because of that broad, arrogant man, Stephan had been absent from Deepwood Motte for just shy of a year and on his return he had not been the same man.

Though the war was over, he was tainted by it. He was not able to sleep brought the night without medicine from the Maester and even then he often woke in a cold sweat, shaking awake his Lady Wife to convince him that she was alive; that she had not been stolen from him by the cold hands of war.

He had been too old to fight, Jennisei had knew this but she had never voiced her opinions like her mother had. Lady Rosemyre had begged her husband not to go North. 'North men do not do well in the South' is what she preached for days after Jon Arryn had called the banners. But of course, Stephen had no choice. Their allegiance House had been slaughtered, his friends murdered. It was his duty to go.

They were all just grateful that they had been given time to prepare. A war had been looming for years as the King's mind grew more and more detached from reality, whispers from the south had been unsettling the major seats of the North for years, since before Jennisei had been sent South. But none of them had known what spark would ignite the flame.

Turns out it was a girl. A simple girl. The Stark girl.

Jennisei remembered thinking on the night her father left Deepwood Motte with thousands of men, that there would be no wars in the world if it were not for woman. Why did men start wars for women? Then they had heard the fait of the Stark men, Lord Rickard of Winterfell and his son and heir Brandon. One burned alive and the other strangled.

Amira had become frantic, more so as the months dragged on. As more bodies were returned to Deepwood for an honourable rest, the family prayed to the Gods that the next would not be his.

Then, a raven arrived, sealed with a Baratheon sigil.

Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.

The castle had wept, at first with relief and then with joy as the script unravelled to reveal their boys were returning home. There were to be no more deaths, no more whispers, no more madness. The Mad King was dead, all hope for the Seven Kingdoms had been restored. Lord Arryn was to be Hand of the King, an honourable man, a trusted man. They could breathe easy.

However, there had been one fact which Jennisei had requested to read for herself after hearing her mother read it from the paper. An event involving her former betrothed, Jaime Lannister.

He went by a different name now; King Slayer.

He had been the one to kill the King, not Robert or one of the two remaining Stark boys. The Kingsguard had turned on the king. It was not written on the scroll, but as the weeks passed rumours began to make their way North. Along with the news of Robert's betrothal to Cersie Lannister, oh how Jennisei had snarled at that, and of Ned Stark's bastard son who he had fathered on his travels south, came the details of the slaying of Aerys Targaryen.

He had stabbed him in the back, slit his throat. Jaime had been found by Ned Stark, hovering over the Mad King as he bled out. Jennisei did not have anything to say on the matter, she mostly kept silent or too her chambers, hoping to avoid ever hearing the mans name again. He was a traitor, a sadistic, self involved, murderer. She had dodged a bullet. Wife of the King Slayer, it hardly held a ring to it.

During the war, Jennisei had also changed, much like her father. Since returning from Casterly Rock close to two years ago, she had been forced into the background of family matters and disregarded as anything of use. Though he had not purposely acted it out, her mother grew distant and her brother turned from being horrid to simply being a stranger. With her father gone, there was no one for her to confide in the way Jennisei could with only him and no one to stick up for her when she wished to go riding instead of reading. Not to mention her mothers increased worry, so when Amira finally did pay her daughter attention it was smothering.

"It is not safe."

"What should I do if news comes?"

"Leave that to the men, my Darling."

Jennisei grew rebellious due to such, and though it did not match Robert's attempts, they were worrying. Most nights she ate in the kitchens with the servants, not wishing to seek the company of her cold family and stayed out past dark, leading to shoot arrows blind, in the dark amongst the trees.

By now, after so many long months of practise, she was one of the best archers in Deepwood Motte. Her work with a dagger was not too bad either, it was only her sword skills which let her down but that came mostly from not having a practise partner. She could only become so good, working with a still and silent stuffed straw dummy.

However, upon her fathers return she had grown so excited to show him what she had taught herself, how far she had come since his departure. But upon greeting her, he had only patted her on the head, kissed her cheek and then retired with a mug of ale and he had barely left the castle since. Though Jennisei had not let it dowse her passion or brought her round her her mothers pleas for her to be a Lady. In fact, it had ignited the passion in her to continue because there was nothing else for her to do now, there was no one left to be present for and training, running, riding, fighting…it all preoccupied her mind enough for her to fail in realising she was lonely.

When she stood with her family now, much like she did on this particular day, Jennisei had to distant her mind from the present just to be able to smile. Those that looked would notice how there was no light behind her eyes as there had once been, her lips were turned up but barely and she looked sad, lost.

Today, though her dress; a floor length dark grey gown with sleeves reaching her wrists, fit with her house and heritage making her look the part, she still did not fit. Like the lost piece of the puzzle, Jennisei stood a foot or so off to the side of her brother with her head dipped.

She looked like a servant girl who had been forced to pose as a member of a Noble Family. An imposter. A bastard.

"Jennisei. Stand up straight."

"Yes mother." Her weak whisper was full of pity for only herself as she pulled her shoulders back and looked forward towards the gates.

Had she not just been here? Had two years really passed since the old Lion and his King Slaying to be son had rode through the gates and taken her back South with them? It felt, to Jennisei, as if it had been a matter of days, rather than month. The only difference between that day and this day, was that she did not stand with pride and curiosity and she did not care for whoever was to join them.

However as gates opened, and dozens of men poured through between the stone towers carrying the banners, Jennisei looked up from the dirty ground and fixed her eyes forward.

The Flayed Man. Bolton banners.

She had been told about a week ago, by her father, that they would be hosting House Bolton for a feast. 'A celebration for the new King'. But Jennisei was weary, Lord Bolton had a son of her own age and he was not wed, nor betrothed. Fear that tensions within the realm could one day rise again were forever present amongst all of the Northern men and they were all desperate for some security no matter what the cost. Some produced more heirs, others made sure their heirs had an heir of their own. It could be an innocent visit, but she needed to be sure.

All of the men from The Dreadfort were subdued in darkness, purposefully dull metal and subtle engravings. They were not a one for show, unlike the Lannisters who's men had sparkled in the weak winter sun and dazzled like the gold their Lord let lie in his pocket. No, the Bolton banner men sent a chill up her spine like that of a cold breeze in the dark woods.

Lord Bolton gave her the same sensation as he rode towards the front of the pack, Lady Bolton by his side along with, who Jennisei recognised as their son, Lord Roose Bolton.

The family all had the same pale milky shade of skin, unhealthy and gaunt looked the Lady, whereas the men suited it. Maybe it was the piercing blue of their eyes, cold like ice and standing out against their dark hair. They were strikingly similar, father and son, but the younger held himself differently. As The Lord of the Dreadfort sat tall and undoubtedly proud, he looked relaxed, and his son looked like the true leader. Roose held his shoulders back with pride, and allowed his eyes to sweep over each and every person in his presence.

It was just for a moment, but the young Lords eyes seemed to linger on Jennisei user for a moment, a smirk threatening to curl his lips. Then, as quick as he looked at her, he looked away, second before she had allowed herself to study him.

His hair was short and his body seemed almost swamped by large coats and black fur capes, however, it was still clear that he was a broad man, built much like his father in physic. Roose Bolton played the part of a North man very well.

The overly practised introduction were held. Lord so and so allow me to introduce you to so and so. Our castle is yours, your stay is welcomed, my heir, your heir, politics. False smiles and forced politeness.

Jennisei allowed herself to be distracted by the strange men surrounding her, still on horseback. She wondered if they had all rode south of, how many men they had killed, if she could beat them in an archery tournament, if they had met the King Slayer. Why had not one of them killed him? Why was he still allowed to live?

"My daughter, Jennisei."

"My Lord." She greeted dutifully, curtsying and bowing her head like a well trained mare.

Nothing further was said to her and she became lost again, the next time she came back to the conversation was only because the families were leaving the exposed courtyard and retreating into the warmth of the castle. She followed for a few steps, stepping in time with her brother, but then stopped, paused to see if either of her parents would notice, and took a different path towards the stables.

Her absence was not noted until the rest of her family, accompanied by the Boltons, reached the main hall.

Lady Bolton paused by the table set and looked back down the way they had came. "Your daughter…" The words hovered and following them was a long pause, awkward and unsettling, as Amira stuttered to find the suitable words and Stephan frowned.

"My daughter…" Lord Rosemyre began with a forced chuckle. "You must forgive my daughter, My Lady, she is a free spirit." Years ago he would have smiled upon saying those words, he would have been proud, but now he spat them out with exhausted irritation. "I believe she will be preparing to go for a ride as we speak."

"Unaccompanied?" The surprise was clear in the Lady Bolton's eyes. "Will she be safe?"

"Quite safe, my Lady." Amira spoke up. "She knows the land better than any of our men we believe." She looked to her husband for support but was met with dead eyes and her smile melted. "Please, sit. We have prepared tea for you, you must be exhausted from your travels."

But the Lady did not move a foot and, after an unspoken approval from her husband through a single glance, Lady Bolton turned to her son.

"Check the stables, see that Lady Jennisei remains safe during her ride."

"Of course, mother." Bowing his head to the hosting family, Roose took his leave.

"Thank you, My Lady. My sister will be pleased to have the company." Henry Rosemyre's smug grin was lost to all of those remaining in his presence, they were too busy settling into their seats now the matter at hand had been taken care of. He wished he too could leave now never, just to see the look on his dear sisters face when Roose Bolton followed her out of the gates.

Amira, wide eyed and panicking, took a breath and laid a hand on the front of her chest to hold herself together. "Yes." She whispered breathlessly. "Thank you, My Lady." Now, turning back to her husband, she managed a smile. "Now, let us take tea."

Jennisei was walking from the stable, Winter following her obediently as the lead was held loosely in her hand, when Roose approached her. She had changed quickly into a pair of brown breeches and a loose white shirt, worn under a thick grey tunic, eager to get outside of the castle walls and into the fresh air. Later, she would wish she had skipped changing and acted quicker.

He was watching her with an awfully plain face as she passed him, eyes dragging from her messily pulled up hair to the scuffs in her riding boots. She would have ignored him, she should have ignored him, had it not been for the way his mouth held a small twist of intrigue.

"Stare at a Lady too long my Lord and she will start to think something is wrong." She did not whisper now but called the words out quite freely for him, and most of the surrounding guards, to hear.

"Excuse me if I offend My Lady, just, I have heard much different to what I see." Jennisei slowed her walking, coming to a stop still a bit a way from him.

"And what is it that you have, My Lord?" Plainly, her voice flowed and her brow creased. She did not have the energy, nor the patience, to argue with another silly little lord about whether she could handle a sword.

"That you had the strength of a man, and the power of an ox." He started, eyes straight ahead of him and focused on her alone. "That you were a fierce, terrifying, monster of both male and female."

Jennisei chuckled upon remembering the moment she had shared with Tyrion Lannister in the library of Casterly Rock that one afternoon. He had spoken almost the same words. Since their meeting, he had also apparently done nothing to hush those rumours.

"Sorry to disappoint, my Lord." Jennisei studied him, gave a smile which resembled that of a wince, and then went to take her leave.

He stopped her again but odd words.

"However, I see a beautiful young woman, with the grace of a wild flower." She stopped with her back now to him, shoulders hunched. "But I can see the strength they speak of. I do not see a monster, or anything terrifying. But I see passion and power, a much more dangerous dream than a fierce beast with a sword."

Jennisei was taken back. Would she be mistaken to understand he had just complimented her? Though it was a deep metaphorical extravagant one at that.

Narrowing her eyes, Jennisei turned only enough to be able to watch him from over her shoulder.

"Thank you, My Lord." Hesitation, he saw it. Words came to her but she denied them, again and again until she gave up and closed her mouth, signing. "Excuse me."

"I have been ordered to accompany you, My Lady." Once again, Jennisei halted, but this time she allowed her irritation to be noticeable. Her shoulders fell with a heavy sigh and she swung around to face Roose with a roll of her eyes.

"Ordered? By who, my father?"

"My mother." Lord Bolton was quick to answer, his expression now serious, the same as it had been when he had rode into Deepwood.

"I do not need to be accompanied." Jennisei shook her head and busied herself with fixing the length of her stirrups. "I enjoy being alone."

"I cannot disobey my mother." He was taken back in surprise by how easily and gracefully she swung up onto her horse. The girl, for how small she was, made it look like it was no effort at all. Her long hair was now pulled back into a thick braid, fraying like a piece of old rope, but it showed her face, she was pretty.

"Do what you wish to, my Lord, but I am leaving now."

Roose didn't have time to reply before she rode out of the gates. He would tell his mother the girl appeared to have already left and he would get the last word with Jennisei Rosemyre later.


	6. Chapter 6

Every candle to be found in Deepwood Motte had been lit that night. The Great Hall resembled a burning field, the smell of melting wax overpowering the several courses of fine food and wine which cluttered the long tables.

Wild boar, venison, potatoes and gingerbread, all washed down with gallons of fish northern wine and dark ale. The cooks had been working since pre dawn to prepare enough to feed the Houses of the North for such a rare and welcomed occasion for celebration. As well as House Bolton, House Umber, The Mormonts of Bear Island and and the Karstarks had also travelled to join them. Apparently, House Stark was no holding any form of celebration, it was thought to be due to the two small boys they had now to care for and Lord Stark requested time to grieve and learn the ways of fatherhood. How Deepwood Motte had come to play host, Jennisei would never know, but she assumed it was her fathers unwillingness to travel.

Of course, she agreed; needing to travel to Karhold would have been too much. Not even a new King required that sort of dedication. But on the other hand, having her home filled with boisterous northern men was not great either.

"My daughter! You look as if we are still at war! Cheer up girl."

Drink. Nothing else subdued him demons. Nothing the Maester could prescribe could help, however drink quickly became his best friend. It was only when he drank, Jennisei saw little elements of her father return though it was never all of the parts, he was never complete. It was also the only time Stephen seemed to remember he had a daughter.

He hit her shoulder with laughter, as if she were her brother and her next act would be to cheer and clink her mug with his. It was not. Instead, Jennisei winced and waited until he had stumbled off to take a sip of her wine.

"He is a hero, your father." The boy to her left spoke, succeeding in removing her attention from her wine and onto him. Jorah Mormont. He had been doing it all night; every time she turned away, he found something to say to pull her back. For a young man he had such a baritone, low and rough, a lot like the bear on his sigil.

"Is he?" Jennisei questioned, following Jorah's gaze so they both watched her father climb back to his seat at the head table, next to Henry and her mother. She did not wish to sit up there, she would rather be down on the front benches, hidden. "He does not look like one."

"He fought for the North, for the Kingdom."

"So did you." Jennisei narrowed her eyes and turned away from her family, choosing instead to focus on the man who had worked so hard for her attention. Now however, he seemed to sink and hide away from her. "Does that mean you are a hero too?"

Jorah fumbled, reaching for his ale. "Ah no…no my lady." He took a drink, then a second, then a third and Jennisei found herself chuckling. He was as charming as he was exhausting, she had to admit. She may not have been falling head over heels for him but he was surprisingly good company. He listened and he spoke to her about things other than flowers and petty compliments. "I…"

"I am playing with you Lord Mormont." Her giggled caused a red glow to spread across his cheeks. "Though I do believe every man who goes to war is a hero. Each one of them as brave as the one before."

Jorah was honoured, she could tell from the way his eyes had widened before he had remembered to breathe. "Thank you, my Lady." He nodded, almost as if bowing to her. No one had told him he had done well during the fighting, that is what she assumed for it was the same with all the boys. The big names, the Lannister's and the Baratheon's and the Stark's, they all got showered with appreciation and praise. The boys, the ones in the fields, the ones without anything to fight for, they were forgotten. And although Jorah was not just a boy, he indeed had his future to fight for, he still accepted her thanks greatly. "I agree with you wholeheartedly. I hope we never have to see war like this again, not in our lifetime."

Jennisei offered him a smile before taking her cup and holding it up to his tanker. "Cheers to that." He knocked her cup with his and they both drank.

"Would you care for a dance, My Lady?"

Jennisei paused, her mouth held open for a moment as she thought over her answer, weighing up the pros and cons. He was a nice young man, no wife, no children, heir to Bear Island and had not at one point that evening been put off by her signs or sullen look. Smiling, she placed her hand in his and nodded once. "It would be my pleasure, Lord Mormont."

They danced for a while, seeing through a couple of songs until they were interrupted by Jorah's father of all people. The shadow of the big old bear had swept over her like a giants, wide and intimidating. She looked to Jorah, then back to his father, before stepping out of his arms and curtsying.

"My Lord." When she rose, Jeor appeared to be smirking at her with unexplained amusement.

"You don't need to bow to me girl." He laughed, the glow of wine tinting his cheeks. "Your mother wishes to call it a night, see her to her chamber. I will make sure Lady Rosemyre sees the end of the song."

"Yes father." Jorah took his leave, a single glance and bow towards Jennisei before he left her there, in the middle of the Great Hall with his father.

"A dance, my Lady?" She could hardly deny him. Instead, she had to lay her hand in Jeor Mormont's and do her best to look pleased. Through a few turns, she was doing a good job at laughing at his small jokes and stepping into all of the right places. Until… "You enjoy the company of my son?"

The alarm bells sounded so loud in her mind, Jennisei was sure they were real, ringing out throughout the castle. She wanted to stop there, to run, go to bed and forget this feast and the trap she had ended up falling into.

"I have no doubt that he is a good man, my Lord." It was not the confirmation Lord Jeor wished for not was it denial. At this moment, she did not no whether it had haltered his attempts or motivated them.

"He will make me proud one day, he will make a good Lord." Jennisei could feel the old Bears eyes on her, and she met them while trying her hardest not to frown and show the fear. "We are neighbours, are we not?"

The music changed to a slower and quieter tune. An old song, most likely fashioned from an old wives tale judging by the words. The pair turned slower, they took wider steps around the hall as the harp played in the back by the fire. "Yes my Lord. Bear Island are our closest allies."

Jeor Mormont raised his left brow and his moustache curled up as he smiled beneath it. "We could be closer." There is was, her answer, the conformation that she had in fact motivated him. "You are still to find a husband, my boy is yet to find a wife." And the King was still to find the missing children of Aerys Targaryen, but there they were drinking away as if it did not matter, as if Robert was not having men's head worked onto spikes daily due to the matter.

"My Lord." Jennisei attempted to help his actions, to put a stop to it before a raindrop turned into a typhoon. But he was not a man to be so easily stopped.

"He is a North boy, born and bred. I raised him to be loyal. He isn't traitorous like those southern bastards." Jeor caught himself a moment or two after the words slipped from his lips, tutting. His large hand held her waist so lightly she barely registered it being there, but she felt his fingers twitch. "Apologise for my language, my lady."

Jennisei smiled, honestly for the first time since Jorah had departed. "No need, Lord Mormont." She went to carry on, hesitated, sighed and then looked at the old bear. He seemed proud but trustworthy. His eyes were kind, he reminded her of how her father used to be. He would most likely respect her own honesty. "They are bastards."

Jeor bellowed out, deafening those standing to close to him. When he looked down at her, his eyes were squinted and his cheeks were red from laughing. "I like you girl." She started laughing, tamely at first and then louder. It was contagious. By the time they had calmed, half of the room were watching them and Jeor was out of breath. "I will speak to your father come morning." He nodded, mostly to himself, booking a mental appointment with himself to do said task.

"Should you wish my Lord." Was it really worth running from it? Was it really worth hiding? At the end of the day was this not just the inevitable? One day she would have to marry…again. Try to marry, again. At some point she would need to leave the Deepwood. She was just lucky the war had come and gave her two years to recuperate. "It would be an honour to join your house, truly." If it were to happen, surely it was best that it happened with a House known to her, close to her home and with a man she had at least met first.

But if that were so, if that was best, why did the mere thought make her begin to sweat? The thought of being a Lady and a wife and a mother, it was all too much. Jennisei had been gifted with two years, she could have used them to teach herself the facts of life, the truth of what she was born to do. Marry, have sons, serve her lord husband and die silently. But she did not, she had used them to distance herself from reality and to busy her mind so much so that the voices telling her the truth were reduced to muffled whispered, locked up in the deepest part of her conscious.

"You are a unique soul girl." Lord Jeor spoke as he started to slow their steps. "If you will excuse me, I cannot dance all night as I once could."

"My lord." She had not even had the chance to dip into a curtsy before the bear took a soft hold on her chin and shook his head.

"No need girl."

After he took his leave and returned to his table, Jennisei watched until he sat next to his son due to him having returned from seeing to his mother. Jorah was looking back to her and not once did he look away, not even when Lord Jeor laughed just as loudly as before and slapped him on the back.

Husband. The word turned sour in her mouth as quick as milk turned sour in the sunlight. He was…handsome, she supposed. His hair, light like hay, his eyes kind. Betrothed. Like a spare part her family just couldn't wait to get rid of. She was cluttering up space, loitering around the castle. She would cramp her brothers new wife's style if she were still here in a few months time, once she travelled from White Harbour. She needed to get out.

"My Lady?" The bubble of thoughts she was becoming trapped in was popped. Spinning around, Jennisei was met with a face she had seen fat too much of the past couple of days.

"Lord Bolton." She dipped, for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, as Roose bowed his head. "Are you enjoying the feast?"

"It is…" He trailed off, eyes venturing off to the side where a whore from the surrounding town was shamelessly pawing of one of the Karstarks banner men. "Certainly a Northern affair."

"Indeed."

Roose smirked and with his hands linked behind his back, he took a step forward until he threatened to be toe to toe with her. "Would you care to dance, my Lady?"

Roose Bolton was a strange man, a complicated cold, shell. He had been watching her since she'd been announced into the hall behind her parents and brother, and before that in the courtyard each morning she left for a ride and afterwards, when she returned to pick up her bow.

She had been naive, never giving him a second glance and not taking a minute to understand why he was watching her. Jennisei had been too preoccupied trying to avoid the several dozen men imposing on her lands.

But this evening, her hair was been fully pinned up in some sort of southern twisted plait, a few stray hairs framing her face, and a large gold necklace weighed down her neck. The dress she worse was a deep harlot red, a vast different from the leggings she had been wearing only a few hours ago, and she carried herself with the same grace as she had held when practicing her sword skills that morning. All in all, on this particular evening, the Bolton boy thought she looked beautiful, more stunning than any other northern noble he had been introduced to on his travels with his family and the most beautiful maid on offer to him that night. He was not about to continue watching from afar.

"Can you dance Lord Bolton?" He did not reply but his smirk grew and, without waiting for her proper approval, Roose laid one hand on her waist and took her other hand in his own before starting to lead her around in time with the other bodies. "I shall take that as a yes." Jennisei meant for it to be said under her breath, a mumble not meant to fall on any ears. But as he heard it, he laughed; a deep rumble forming low in his chest before rolling up into a hum emitted from his lips.

"You speak your mind."

"Does that appall you? It appals many others, I will not be offended." To tell the truth, she had not fully engaged with the young lord since he laid his hands on her. By this point in the evening she was tired, and what part of herself she gave to the feast in order to look present was already dwindling.

"Not the Mormont boy." She laughed absently.

The Mormont boy. Had it been that obvious? Jennisei was not sure. But one thing she could be sure of was how the young Mormont's eyes were watching her back, studying her and Lord Bolton with concentrated curiosity and a hint of jealousy. As much as Jennisei hid from the eyes of men she did find some sadistic satisfaction when causing jealousy. Perhaps if was because one man had left her at the alter as a woman scorned, now, the knowledge of two men competing for her attention gave her back some of the power she thought she had lost.

The hollow of her cheek were sucks in as Jennisei swept her tongue across her teeth. "Jealously is not an admirable trait." Oh but it was wasn't it? To feel like you were something worth fighting for, like something which was sought after? It felt good, especially to those who were seemed out for much else more than to do a duty.

"Neither is cheek." Roose quipped, the arm on her waist drawing tighter so as to pull her attention from whatever, or whoever, was over his shoulder.

"Good." Jennisei licked her lips, her eyes darting up to meet his. "Tell me, Lord Bolton, why did you think I was some awfully mutated monster? From what you said to me in the courtyard a few days, you had heard some stories in quite some detail." It had not bothered her but she was curious. Where ad they come from? Where had they started? Who had spread such viciously vile things, even all those years ago, when she had just been a child?

"Just rumours, my lady. Most likely tales from a jealous handmaiden." Roose's eyes were cold, unforgiving, unkind. Looking into them was every bit the opposite of looking into Jorah Mormont's. He had looked at her with wonder, Roose looked at her as if she were his servant, as if this was something he had to do. "Though there were stories from the South, from Casterly Rock. A lot of men were curious as to why the King Slayer had not taken you as a wife. People could only assume…"

Jennisei would not have been surprised if Jaime Lannister had started them, or at least added to the already existing stories. He was that kind of man, a man who would twist any story in order to make himself seem like the better man.

Choking on a scoff, Jennisei once again found herself mumbling under her breath. "Why does that not surprise me." With a shake of her head, Jennisei tried to words to make up a reply to Roose, but she just could not work them out in the right order or in a way that did not make her sound like a spiteful old hag.

"Would you care for some fresh air?"

He did not need to ask twice. Before Roose had removed his hand from her waist, Jennisei had already turned and was marching out of the main hall.

Behind them, Jorah had rose from his seat, eager to go after her. Later, he would wish that he had.

* * *

The night sky. They could not all be gods. As Jennisei walked, a silent Roose Bolton walking beside her, she pondered on who was right. Was each star a god or a lost spirit watching over them as they slept? Or neither? Were they the candles, watched by the eyes of the giant they lived in.

"I did not wish to marry him." They had not spoken since they had left the confinement of the castle walls. She had been thinking over his words; men could only assume… "I was relieved to hear he had left to join the Kingsguard. He saved me the trouble of being his wife." What would she be doing in that very moment, she wondered. Knitting little dresses for her child, a child born through a war, and painting pretty pictures in the garden. With him next to her, his blonde hair and light eyes rooting into her womb. "Have you ever met him, the King Slayer?"

She looked at a Roose Bolton, just for long enough to make sure he was listening for he had yet to speak a word. He was, with empty eyes watching her as the thoughts worked behind them. "Can not say that I have My Lady."

They came to a stop at the end of the courtyard, by the stables in the shadows. Jennisei turned to lean against it and face back towards the feast. Candles burned in every window, smoke rose into the air from every fire roaring within and outside the stone walls, the smell of roasting pig flesh filled the air with a acquired sweetness.

How could he look so much older than his years? What was it about him? His posture, his never changing expression…what was it?

"I stayed at the Dreadfort for most of the Rebellion. We did not meet on or off the battlefield." Jennisei nodded and then turned her head up, back to the night sky.

"He is an awful man. A petty man." Roose noticed how she was almost snarling, her slender fingers wrapped tightly around the wooden beams of the fence they leant against. "He thinks he can get away with murder just because of his name."

"He is right, he can." The breeze brushed through her hair, carrying the scent of rose petals and lavender. Upon coming outside, the first thing she had done was release her hair from the rose pin, allowing it to flow down her back like a river of ebony. Roose got closer to her, stepped in front of her, and brushed away those strands which had strayed into her eyes. "All he had to do, should he find himself in trouble, is state his fathers name. And he will be free."

What a truly disgusting thought. It was no new news to Jennisei but she still struggled to comprehend it. Should she be kidnapped, the mention of her fathers name would do nothing more than heighten the value above her head. "What a thrilling existence, living in the shadow of a name and your own father." That is what her brother was doing, and what her father was doing and what his father had done before that. "Does no one wish to make their own fortune these days?"

"That is what we all exist as. The son of a man who had the same name, who was once great." His hand now lingered by her chin, threatening to stroke the softness of her cheek. "Men do not have to carry on the greatness, men must simply not loose it."

Jennisei moved, her hair caching around his fingers as she stepped to the side and out of his reach. "A new summer." She put her back to him, her dress sweeping around her feet in the dry dirt. "A new King…Maybe we will be blessed with new great men with strong names?"

"Perhaps." Always keeping an eye on her back, he was struggling to work out if she was playing with him or if the girl was oblivious. Jennisei Rosemyre had the same look in her eye each time he caught sight of her. Whether she was picking up a sword or carrying buckets of water and horse feed across the yard at first light, she was never there, always vacant. It was as if she was always thinking about something else, her mind was in a different land to her physical self.

During his reflections, Lord Bolton had gone quite, a little too quiet. By the time she had decided to investigated, it was too late; his hand grasped her elbow and she was pulled around to meet him.

"What are you doing?" Jennisei tried to remove his hands from her but he was strong. His thumb would leave an imprint on her forearm the next morning and she would look at it and remember the smell of his breath. "You are drunk."

For a long while, her only answer was the almost neglectful shake of his head. Roose loosed his hand and trailed it down her arm until he held her hand in his. He was cold, like ice, he was like a walking dead men from her old story books. "I do not drink my Lady, it dulls the senses."

"To what?"

The movements that followed were slow, like their dance had been. First, Roose came so close that Jennisei could only see the top half of his face and the narrowing of his eyes as he searched for something within her own. What it could have been, she did not know and she was too preoccupied to even attempt to work it out.

Then, with the hand which did not keep her with him, Roose brushed the back of his fingers down her cheek until he held it with a gentle caress. Jennisei could not hold her eyes open, they wanted to close on there own at the feel of his skin against hers. It was something she had never experienced before, no man had ever touched her in this way before. Not one.

The moment her eyes fluttered shut, his lips were against hers. She didn't push him away. She didn't move. In fact, as Roose grew more confident of the fact she was not going to deny him and pulled her closer with a sharp tug on her waist, she raised her now free arms and wrapped them around his neck.

Before long, they both found themselves in Jennisei's chamber, amongst the sheets.


	7. Chapter 7

Jennisei was in the stables, grooming Winter after having brought him his daily feed. The morning had already stretched out far too long and half the Castle was still yet to rise. Those that were awake were only the servants, busying themselves with the clean up of last nights feast and the morning rituals. And him.

Roose had not been with her when she had woke, for the most part she had been glad. The emptiness of her chamber allowed her to think as the images from the evening replayed over and over in her mind. The softness of his lips against her neck, his rough leather worn hands pawing at her bare skin, his weight crushing down on her as they both gasped for breath.

What had she done? What had she been thinking?

Was it her unwillingness to marry? Had this all been an unconscious act to ruin herself so no other man would want her? She had stained herself and it was not a one which could be removed, not ever. She was a stupid girl; a girl unable to make a good decision. Never had she known the difference between good and bad; right or wrong. Her gut told her to deny Jaime and she had been right, but she put herself though the embarrassment anyway. Her gut had told her to push Lord Bolton away, to run back into the hall and take her seat next to Jorah Mormont; a good man with a good offering. But she had not. Now, the ache between her things was a temporary reminder of the mistake she had made.

What man would want her now?

None. But that was good…was it not? Why did she not know anymore? Why was she so unable to make a judgement on her own minds wishes? What had happened over the past two years to make her so weak? She could not blame Jaime for that, no, this was beyond him. This was all her doing. Jennisei had weakened herself, removed herself from all that she was and all that she had once believed in.

Yes, she fought well. Yes, she trained, she was committed to those activities and she was strong unlike any other woman in the Deepwood. But she was no woman, she was no man, she was barely living. A drifter, a shell, a ghost. Her feet were not planted to the soil beneath her, she floated, waiting for the day her purpose would call to her so she could land and live it out.

Would it ever come? Would there ever be a purpose? Or was this it…a bed warmer for visiting lord. A whore. A disappointment.

The clashes of swords outside from Henry and Roose were deafening. She had seen him as she had walked from the servants kitchen to the stable and had dropped her eyes, only focusing on the dirt being crushed beneath her boots. Jennisei did not have any idea in the World of what she was supposed to do or how she was supposed to act. How did he want her to perform? It obviously had to be kept hushed; what they had done was disgusting, but it was not unheard of.

The sounds of fighting stopped, but the change was lost on Jennisei as she brushed down the white wires naturally blending into grey. Winter was the one soul in her life who had not changed. He had never crossed her, apart from the time he bolted upon seeing a mole in the Wolfswood, he had never wronged her and he had not changed. He always remained the same loyal beast who would carry her to the ends of the World should she ask his too.

Winter whined, knocking his front hood off the stone floor with a grunt as a shadow loomed in the doorway behind Jennisei's back.

"Hush, silly boy."

"You tend to your own horse?" The voice startled her, so deep it disturbed the dust layered upon the bails of hay. Jennisei gasped.

"I do not trust any other man to do a better job." She kept her back from him, seeking comfort in the warmth of Winter's head beneath her hand. But on her third breath, a one so strong it rattled her rib cage, Jennisei turned to meet the presence of Roose Bolton. "May I be of help, My Lord."

"You are not a stable hand." There was a pause, a silence which was drawn out in front of them, unending; until Roose stepped forward. "Are you planning to ride, My Lady?" Jennisei took a great step back, enough to match his double, and her lips fixed into a straight, narrow line. "Do I frighten you?"

"No." Jennisei's voice was firm.

This time, when he advanced, she didn't retreat. The girl did not even flinch when he got so close as to reach out and pat the neck of her stallion. "Must I be forced to ask you again?" Roose's tone was teasing. For the first time since they had met she noticed a smirk teasing the corner of his mouth.

"Yes...I am. Same as every morning." She wanted to move away and get to fixing the saddle. She wanted to get away from this man but he kept her stuck to the spot just by simply being there.

She prayed for a stable boy to interrupt them but like always, the Gods did not answer her prayers.

"Would you accept my company on this morning, My Lady?"

Jennisei tipped her chin up, her cheeks hollowed in curiosity. "Why would you want to offer me your company Lord Bolton?"

Men. They were strange beings. Everyone of them different, like a snowflake of the long winter. Some were kind, some were weak, some were hopeless, most were stupid. Roose was none of these things, Roose was harsh, cold, complicated. Looking at him now, he looked like he wanted to push her away, but he was drawing her closer; the fact tore her mind and twisted the fragments together until they blended into one ball of uselessness.

When he kissed her this time it was softer. Lord Bolton did not pull at her like she was some rag toy he was allowed to play with, he held her. He held her in his arms like she was his.

As they separated, Jennisei frowned and dragged her eyes slowly across every line in his face. He did not have many, he was still young, but that only meant that the ones that were there often meant something. A frown, anger, a lie, irrigation. She could see non of those, and so she matched his faint smile.

"Yes. You may join me."

* * *

The Wolfswood was calm. The warm breeze coming in from the south had caused both riders in the small party to shed their fur cloaks. Together, they rode in almost matching tunics, enjoying the silence and escape nature offered. There was not one banner is sight, no drunken fools, no one.

"Tell me, Lady Jennisei." Bolton spoke as he reached for the pouch of wine from his belt and handed it first to the Lady riding beside him. "Why the hate for the life of a Lady?" Expecting water, she coughed, choking and spluttering on the rich liquid. She heard Roose laugh and she scowled as she passed the leather goblet back to him.

"I do not hate it." She responded after catching her breath. "I just..." No, he was right. Not completely correct, she did not hate it. There were much worse situations she could have been born into or found herself in. "I find it hard to understand sometimes...it's hard to explain my Lord. But the way our lives our so planned, decades before we are born. Your father was told to marry your mother, they were told to have you. Already you know that your grandson with rule the castle you yourself do not even yet rule." Jennisei paused to take a breath, she was barely blinking she focused that hard on the way things were meant to be, the story she had been told as a child. Only it wasn't a story, it was her life.

The entire play out of her life had been fed to her slowly, piece by piece, since she was a babe. There were no surprises anymore. Jaime had been a surprise but she bet that nothing could overthrow that going forward.

"Did you adopt that opinion from your mother?" It didn't take long for Jennisei to shake her head, scoffing.

"Does my mother look like she agrees with me?" She mocked. Amira Rosemyre was a proud woman from another proud Northern House. She had done her duty, marrying who her father told her to marry; a good man from a good House, who now spent his days drowning in wine and fearing the ghosts of a war won. "It was my father that pushed this. Teaching me the basics of everything all before I was ten." Roose rose his eyes brows at hearing this. "He liked the idea of me being able to protect myself should the event ever arise."

"Your father is a smart man."

Jennisei hummed in disapproval. "He used to be. Before the war."

"War changes a man." Roose spoke, his voice rising so to be heard over the rustling of trees.

The track they followed was a winding one, they were blind until every next every corner. The trees had not returned to being fully green yet, they were still partially bare but growing. Summer was still finding itself but that was alright, the longer it took to come, the longer it would stay.

"Your father?"

"All of them return with their own demons, My Lady."

"Jennisei." Roose turned to her. "My name is Jennisei. You may address me as such." A nod confirmed his acceptance, his matching allowance did not follow. "You would prefer Lord?" She laughed, relaxing as she swayed easily in her saddle.

"What man would not?" Only the sounds of horses hooves could be heard, trudging along the dirt path and compacting the dirt. The trails needed to be rediscovered, having been washed away and lost by the snow. "See me again tonight." It was a demand, his voice deep and possessive.

"I…" Do not be weak; the voice whispered in her head. Do not show weakness that is what they want. "That would not be wise." There was another voice too, standing beside the brave little girl living amongst her thoughts, the second stood taller, stronger but less wise. "What is someone were to notice?"

Roose Bolton pulled his horse from the path suddenly, Jennisei pulled to a sudden stop her own steed from walking by and watched on in wonder. He reached a tree, dismounted and then waited; she assumed he was waiting for her.

Jennisei only kept him waiting a small while, then she too dropped from the back of her horse and went to him.

They were a match, not in either of their own eyes, but to anyone that would happen to stumble across them. The same grey cloud hovered over their souls, threateningly ominous. They were both smart, however only one of them had fine tuned it; the other was lost, possibly even unaware of it. Men of few words, stood under the Gods, amongst the wolves.

This time, it was her who kissed him. Pressing up onto the tips of her toes, Jennisei grabbed at his tunic and gasped as his hand went to the laces of her leggings.

She took sharp inhale and pulled back but he held her still, unlike he had at any time the previous night. Roose pressed her forehead hard against her own and his hand never stopped undoing her overclothes. "Who is there to notice?"

He pushed her until the rough surface of the tree scratched her back through the thin shirt she wore and then pushed her leggings down, pulling up her leg to wrap around his waist. With her body firmly held between his and the unforgiving bark, he undid his own breeches and took her mouth again.

He would have her when he wanted her, when he needed her. Whether she wanted him too or not…Jennisei was not sure if he would have stopped should she ask him to. But she didn't ask him to, so she rid herself of that fear and gave in to that bold voice in her head screaming 'yes' and gave herself to him again.

* * *

The sun was already high but still rising over the sea, when she woke the next morning. Large, fine furs were laid over Jennisei's slender but toned body. The helped keep her warm through the cold northern night, as did the warm body lying by her side. For having such cold features, his skin was warm against her own; from his mouth lapping at her breast to her feet pressing against his leg as she came. She could still feel Roose lying behind her and after a few seconds of relishing in the morning light and staring out at the skies of a new day, her eyes went wide and she sat up in the bed.

His squire would come soon. Or his father to see why his son had not broke his fast along side him and his Lady wife. One of them would come knocking on the door before long, and then they would find her. The other squires would find out, her hand maidens would find out, Lord Bolton would…

The violence tug at the sheets from her sitting had woke Roose and it took him a second to get used to his surroundings. Looking down at himself and then towards Jennisei as she sat bare at the edge of his bed trying to get her her dress, he couldn't resist smiling and grabbing her wrist. She was caught by surprise and his strength brought her falling back to him before she could stand to dress.

"Where are you going?" He grumbled, his voice heavy with sleep.

"Leaving. It is late, people will come soon."

She had not intended to stay the night. Upon returning from the woods with Lord Bolton, her father had been waiting for her. He had not looked happy but he had not looked unpleased either; never the less Jennisei had assumed the worse. She had excused herself from a Lord Boltons presence, straightened herself out and followed him into his study. An offer had been made for her hand, she was so surprised. The old bear had indeed found her father early that morning and told Stephan his son and she were to marry. 'A pleasant match' Stephan had said. Pleasant. Not grande, not smart…pleasant.

Lemon cakes were pleasant. Sewing lessons were pleasant. Some weeds were pleasant.

She was not a woman who was going to settle for pleasant. She would not allow her father to sell her off for a cause he only deemed to be pleasant.

Jennisei had been seething, but she had held her tongue and nodded. Of course, she would marry the Mormont boy. They would marry at Bear Island on the next full moon. A fine end to a bloody war.

There was some pride in her for having gave herself to another before she was to be tied to another for life. At least now she had a story to keep to herself, a secret to keep, something strange and interesting and fun to hold on to. At least she was not going to be like all the ladies before her.

However, she did hold some guilt, and that came when thinking of Jorah Mormont. He deserved better, she was complained and he was being committed to a life long sentence with a scorned, stubborn whore.

Going to Roose later that same evening had been a mistake, she knew it was. Going to his chambers, asking for him to take her into his bed just so she could stop thinking for one moment…it was stupid. It was childish. But it was done.

"I've barred the door." He spoke slowly and softly tugged on her arm until she fell onto his chest with a small thump. "No one is getting in this room unless I want them too. Amd no one is leaving, unless I allow them too."

"I am not yours." She tried to resist, but Roose forced her lips down on to his as she squirmed. "Stop."

"Let me tell you something..." Taking her chin in his hand, he held Jennisei still with her lips contorted against the shape of his hand. "My lady." Trailing off with a sarcastic murmur, Roose old focused his eyes on hers, a silent order for her to listen. "I decide what is mine. The Mormont boy had no claim on you yet. And even when he does…"

"What?" Jennisei scoffed, quirking her brow and pulling her face from his grasp. "You will travel to Bear Island to bed me? I am honoured to be worth travelling for." Her words were low, a back and forth of wanting to be heard and wanting him to miss them, as she pushed herself up and started to climb from the bed once more.

"A girl had found her tongue." Roose grabbed her wrist, halter her actions and making her still. "You will hold it unless you want to loose it for good." He was jesting, or so she was almost sure. She had not spent long in his presence but it was long enough to recognise that ill sense of humour and the purse of his lips.

"You do not threaten me."

"Nor you me." Roose smiled and then it quickly fell. "I leave in a few days time. Are these your last days in The Deepwood?"

Jennisei choked and threatened to laugh again. "You almost sound sad about the fact." Standing, she pulled on a loose shirt belonging to a Roose and walked over to the open window, looking out of the coast. Behind her, Roose's eyes focused hard on her back, her behind and the long slender build of her legs. "But yes, I imagine so. Bear Island…"

"The woman are trained to fight there, from the age of four. You will fit in well." She rolled her eyes and poured herself a cup of wine. How many times had she heard that while held amongst the four walls of her fathers study?

"You sound like my father." She looked back over her shoulder, her brow already a roll of creases. "You are going to miss my cunt when you leave."

She had never heard Roose laugh before like he did then, boyish and loud. After pouring him a cup of wine, all thoughts of the imaginary approaching squire forgotten, Jennisei brought it to him and sat at the edge of his bedside.

Roose raised his glass as she took a drink. "To the happy couple, may your years together be happy and long." He though she was going to throw her wine over him, or at least try to swing at him. Then she smiled and tipped her cup to him, the dark wood knocking together gently.

"Here's to that."


End file.
